


August in France

by yuletidefairy



Category: Another Country (1984)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 05:07:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletidefairy/pseuds/yuletidefairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guy put it to his mother that of course he meant to invite Judd, he always had, there had never been another friend, who else could there possibly be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	August in France

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samskeyti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samskeyti/gifts).



Guy took Judd to France instead of Harcourt that summer. He couldn't take Harcourt to France after the beating, of course; he could barely nod to him across the cricket field without drawing the sort of undue attention which his acceptance of his punishment had been intended to keep off of Harcourt. There were no more love notes for Fowler to intercept, no more slithering down the drainpipe for trysts on the wine-dark river under the cool moonlight, no more words between them, ever again. Guy chose to believe that Harcourt was pining away for him, wishing desperately that he dared throw caution to the winds and give Guy appreciation for his gesture of the sort that would make the gesture entirely meaningless--breaking formation in the middle of inspection, perhaps, to sweep Guy up in a passionate kiss. Guy saw no evidence that this sort of fantasy was on Harcourt's mind; he only saw Harcourt slinking away from his own tortured glances as if shame were his primary motivation. Thus Harcourt was Harcourt in all Guy's thoughts now, never again sweet, beloved James. Guy would not allow himself that intimacy with one who, even of necessity, spurned his affections.

Lacking Harcourt for a guest, Guy put it to Judd that he was going off to France with his mother and the colonel in August, and should be terribly lonely without Judd's company, not to mention Guy might be forced to murder the colonel if there were no one else about to distract him from the colonel's general air of military offensiveness, so really, hadn't Judd better come along? Judd predictably went off on what privileged snots they were, vacationing abroad. Eventually Guy got tired of it and said, "Are you coming or not?"

"I suppose so," Judd replied, "I've no where else to go."

Guy put it to his mother that of course he meant to invite Judd, he always had, there had never been another friend, who else could there possibly be? He fancied his mother's troubled look meant that she understood something had happened to his blossoming new friendship, and not only that she was concerned about the colonel's reaction to Judd.

The travel was excruciating. Guy's mother and the colonel both ignored the boys and held hands immodestly. Would Guy and Harcourt have been able to get away with such a display? Perhaps they could have arranged to appear to be napping, lulled by the rhythm of the train, and so to lean on one another, use each other's shoulders for pillows. It made Guy frustrated and bitter to so imagine. Newlywed, Guy thought viciously, was not a look that did well on a man with a bald spot, and the mustache was no great draw either. As for his mother--well, Guy could not quite bear to think on his mother, honeymooning. He had hoped they would be past that stage by summer. Judd was not helpfully distracting at all. He buried his face in _Das Kapital_ and ignored everyone as thoroughly as possible. "Out of school at last," he said, "finally, an opportunity to get some work done." He did not lean so much as his book on Guy's willing arm.

That lasted until the end of the rail line, when they had to go on by carriage. The train's engineer might have been a worker of the greatest degree, but Judd had not had the opportunity to see and speak to him. Upon first view of the carriage, however, Judd set out to foment revolution with the driver. Within the coach, they could hear him asking, in French, why these passengers should get to ride in style while the driver worked?

"Perhaps the driver could ride with us and young Judd could drive," the colonel was moved at last to grumble.

"Oh, dear," Guy's mother sighed.

Judd would enjoy that, Guy reflected. "Perhaps I could make a new friend," Guy said.

His mother darted a nervous look at him. Guy attempted to smile reassuringly. He was not sure he succeeded.

"Mais, pourquoi," Judd was saying, _should it matter that their fathers earned more money than your father? That does not make them better than you._

Later on, Judd joined them in the coach, only to complain bitterly that the driver was completely taken in by the marriage of capitalism and the class system. "Pour nos fils," he quoted in disgust. _For our sons._ "We work hard so that our sons will have better lives than we do. This is the illusion by which we perpetuate the system--that it is possible to elevate one's class through hard, honest work, that thereby one's children will not have to labor. But the amount of labor necessary for a society to function does not cease, so someone must always labor. Doesn't it make more sense for everyone to labor equally, and teach our sons to do the same rather than hope they afford to rest on our laurels, for the maintenance of a stable community?"

Guy watched as the colonel's ruddy complexion deepened and a vein on his head pulsed alarmingly. Perhaps he would have a stroke. Guy would doubtless have to haul him out of the coach by his armpits before his poor mother, wedged in the corner, would be able to exit, but at least everyone had their clothes on yet.

"It's a seductive falsehood," Judd railed on, and Guy's gaze went to his mouth, caught by that risque adjective. "But completely untenable. Why, if it were true, within a few generations there would be no more workers and the burgeoning bourgeoisie would collapse in on themselves."

The colonel and Judd argued on for a few miles and Guy let his attention wander across the countryside, bored.

After they had arrived at their villa by the sea and put away all their luggage and had tea, Guy and Judd were informed by Guy's mother that they should entertain themselves and not bother the colonel with any more of their boyish nonsense. "Boyish _nonsense_," Judd spluttered.

"They only want to get away from you long enough to engage in matrimony," Guy said.

"I do not appreciate being dismissed," said Judd.

"Tommy," Guy said, and did not follow _May I call you Tommy_, the way he had when he'd run back from dinner with Harcourt to tell Judd he was in love. He should have known even then; he'd run back to school a full day before he'd needed to, because he'd wanted Tommy to share his joy.

"What?" Judd--Tommy--asked irritably.

"Is this discreet enough?" Guy asked, because that had always been Tommy's objection at school, that Guy lacked discretion. "Is this far enough away from everything and everyone important enough to matter?"

Tommy gave Guy a kiss and followed it up with an insult. "Daft moron," he said. "_You're_ important."

"Am I?" Guy asked. He was still a little adrift.

"Am I?" Tommy repeated, mocking. "What do you think?"

"I want to ride around Europe on bicycles," Guy said, testing. "Will you come with me?"

"Tomorrow," Tommy promised. "Now come here."


End file.
